


Cat Effect

by smilingflash



Category: Mass Effect 2 - Fandom, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, Mass Effect 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingflash/pseuds/smilingflash
Summary: When a cat is smuggled onto the Normandy, a severely allergic Operative Lawson tasks Commander Shepard with finding the offending feline. ME2
Kudos: 4





	Cat Effect

**Author's Note:**

> This is silly. Very, very silly. You've been warned. :) 
> 
> (Originally from 2012ish, moving over from an old ff.net account)

Shepard rested her arms on the metal support in front of the platform overlooking the galaxy map. The Milky Way swirled slowly beneath her gaze. It was almost relaxing, drawing her into an entranced lull. Serene. Until Yeoman Chambers delicately cleared her throat.

"Commander," Kelly said," Miranda would like to speak with you."

Shepard snapped out of her daze. "Did she say what about?"

"No ma'am. Though she did sound different," Kelly paused and chewed on her bottom lip.

"Different?"

"Yeah, like she had a cold."

"I'll talk to her. Thanks, Kelly."

"Anything for you, Commander." Kelly smiled and bounced.

Since the Normandy was en route to the Citadel, Commander Shepard took the elevator, intending to take care of Miranda. As she walked by the mess, Mess Sergeant Gardner waved to her with a spatula coated with a hairy, green slop. She offered a pained smile.

As Shepard approached Miranda's office, the doors slid open. Her office always confused Shepard. Half bedroom and half executive office, the room was kept in a clinical state, without a wrinkle on the bed covers or any indentation on the pillows. It was as though Miranda didn't actually need sleep, and, even if she did, it was beneath her. Miranda sat behind her desk, tapping away on her holographic keyboard.

"Commander, what can I do for you?" Miranda asked without glancing up.

"You asked for me to come talk to you."

Miranda pushed her chair way from her desk, her gaze fixed on the holographic screens of her console. Her voice was stuffy and a red hue rimmed her eyes. Shepard softened her hard gaze, worried. This was not good. Miranda wasn't one for bringing her personal problems into her work.

"Has something happened?" Shepard asked in a lower voice.

"Yes." Miranda stood and turned away. "Something awful has happened."

Shepard nodded, activating her understanding Commander persona. "Miranda, as part of my crew, I need to know what's going on. You can always talk to me."

"I understand that, Commander." She took a deep breath. "There's a cat on the Normandy."

Shepard blinked. "A cat."

"Yes. Any sort of pet is considered contraband. It is prohibited to carry an unauthorized cargo on the Normandy and that includes animals."

"What about my fish and the hamster?"

"After a thorough examination and an extended quarantine period, those animals were approved by the Illusive Man for your use. However, there are no records of additional wildlife being brought onto the Normandy."

Miranda picked up a datapad and handed it to the Shepard. It contained a detailed manifest of all cargo – food, weapons, apparel, and flora and fauna – that had been approved over the course of their mission.

"Okay, so say there is a cat," Shepard began to read down the list of items," How do you know if it is not on this list?"

"Commander, with all due respect." Miranda planted her arms on the top of the desk and glared.

Shepard gazed into Miranda's red, puffy eyes. The sniffling and her scratchy voice were due to an allergy and not a mild cold or unforeseen tragedy. Though Miranda had described herself as engineered perfection, her father had missed this one point.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I can't be around a cat without terrible repercussions and given my history with some of the squad… I'm not fully comfortable tracking the vermin down."

"Vermin? Cats are pets."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Not for everyone, Shepard."

"I'll look into it, Miranda," Shepard set the datapad on Miranda's desk.

"This is a great concern to me."

"I understand. I need you in top condition, so I'll look into it."

Miranda pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Is that all?"

"Yes Commander."

Shepard decided to begin her investigation directly outside of Miranda's office. First, she hooked around the corner into the kitchen to find Gardner wiping his hands on his apron, leaving purple and green stains.

"A cat? That's just plain unsanitary!" Mess Sergeant Gardner chortled and shook his head. He resumed cutting an unidentifiable mound of blue goo with a stained knife.

Shepard then made her way across the mess to the medical bay to talk to Doctor Chakwas. The doctor had been administering tablets to Miranda in an attempt to keep the symptoms of her allergy at bay without much success. According to Dr. Chakwas, it was rare that such a simple genetic correction was overlooked in Miranda's coded DNA.

"Miranda thinks there's a cat. Have you seen anything?"

"Oh, no," Doctor Chakwas' eyes became distant and misty. "I love cats, but I'm afraid I'd never bring one here. Not after what happened to Sparkles."

"Sparkles?"

"Oh, he died many years ago. Overexposure to Element Zero," the doctor said, shaking her head. "A terrible loss. I could never own a cat again, let along bring one onto the Normandy. Too great a risk. Too much heartbreak."

Asking the other human crew members if they had seen anything small and furry led to more stories of dead pets and wistful stares. Shepard, growing weary of the endless tales of cats crawling into small boxes and laying on datapads, headed to the main battery to talk to Garrus. Turians were immune to cute, Shepard reasoned.

"Shepard, need me for something?" Garrus said as he turned around.

"Have you seen anything unusual lately on the ship?"

"Well, there's always something unusual here. With the asari, the krogan, the ex-mercenaries-"

"Garrus."

"Okay. I see. No, nothing more out of the ordinary than normal. Why do you ask?"

"Miranda thinks there's a cat on board." Shepard shook her head, laughing under her breath.

"A cat." Garrus looked at her, quizzical, and crossed his arms. "And what's a cat?"

"You don't know what a cat is?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't read about Earth-related animal biology during my years in the military or at C-Sec."

"Okay, okay," Shepard conceded. "A cat is a small domesticated animal. They're a very popular house pet for humans."

"Like a varren?"

"Yes, but cuter," she said, shuddering at the image that flashed through her mind of a fish-eyed varren.

Garrus nodded. "So, what do cats taste like?"

"That's sick!"

"What?" Garrus' eyes grew wide. "You said you enjoyed varren meat on Tuchanka. I wondered how cat compared."

"You don't eat cat, Garrus. It's just wrong. They're companions, not food." Shepard rubbed a hand against her face. This was worse than she had imagined.

EDI's synthetic voice chimed in, and her white virtual form appeared. "Shepard, I have compiled several sources regarding the standard domestic cat. I can provide a clear image of such a creature if it would help."

"No, don't worry about it," Shepard said.

"That might be helpful, Shepard. After all, not everyone here is human and knows about cats," Garrus said.

"Commencing," EDI chimed.

A few holographic images passed on Garrus' holographic console. The first was a standard black cat standing in profile view with leaders pointing to various features such as the whiskers, tail, and paws. This was followed by trio of tabby kittens in a wicker basket, wrapped in a knitted blanket.

"The cat is a small furry domesticated mammal originating on Earth. Cats are known for their quick reflexes, sharp claws, flexibility and nocturnal nature. Cats have been associated with humans for at least ten millennia. A domestic cat may weigh between eight and fifteen pounds."

Garrus crossed his arms and leaned back, unimpressed. "That hardly seems like a threat. Why would that cause any problems?"

EDI continued. "Cats use a variety of vocalizations to communicate, the most common being known as the 'meow'."

A short clip of a high-pitched meow played. Garrus straightened his posture and glanced around the room, as if he had not heard the sound emanating from EDI's playback through the interface but from an unknown source. The sound played again. He turned to Shepard, his eyes wide and startled.

"It sounds like it's dying."

"The meow is a common communication and can translate into many meanings," EDI said.

"Do humans like that?"

EDI's holographic form paused for a moment. "Yes. Based on a Normandy crew survey, humans find it endearing."

Shepard stared at Garrus for a few seconds before throwing her arms up and stalking out the door. "I don't have time for this."

The next day, Shepard read over her messages at her personal terminal. It was nearly time to head back to Omega and she had planned to buy a few upgrades and pursue a new lead. Kelly stood at her station next to the galaxy map, bobbling her head back and forth, drawn into her work. The other crew members were talking amongst themselves. If they talked about cats or kittens, Shepard ignored it.

Shepard sighed. Miranda had sent her a new message:

"Commander,

I spoke with Doctor Chakwas regarding my medical condition. However, due to the severity of my reaction, I will be retreating to my office. Please contact me in advance for any further interaction. I have developed a decontamination process that will require removal of potential animal hair and dander.

I hope that you will solve this problem immediately. Thank you."

Shepard frowned. This was turning into a bigger ordeal. She needed to take her mind off of the situation. Maybe she could check out the new sniper rifle she had picked up or try her new set of greaves. When she entered, Jacob was in his usual spot by the back of the room, next to a window, with a table of guns laid out before him.

"Commander," he straightened his posture and raised his hand in a salute.

Shepard waved off his formal greeting. "Jacob. How are you doing?"

"Feeling good. You know me."

Jacob didn't make further attempts at conversation and resumed cleaning his gun. Shepard watched idly for a moment.

Though the weapons' locker beckoned, Shepard couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Jacob knew of the cat. He and Miranda had been close before this mission. He had also been an Alliance soldier, trained in the rigid regulations and, more importantly, observation.

"Do you like cats?" Shepard asked after a few minutes.

Jacob paused, set the gun down and turned toward Shepard. His eyes were soft and he wore a dopey smile on his lips. "Cats are cool. My mom used to have one. Named her Ellen. She liked to get into small boxes-"

Huffing, Shepard interjected, "Do you know anything about a cat being on the Normandy?"

"No. Nothing. But if there's a cat, that's no good. Miranda's severely allergic."

"We'll talk later," Shepard walked away through the side door.

In the hallway between the laboratory and the weapons locker, Shepard leaned against the wall and looked at the ceiling. How had Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, get drawn into such a silly quest? She had died and been brought back to life for things far more important than finding the would-be feline menace gallivanting about the ship.

The thought of a vexed Miranda forcing anyone and everyone into envirosuits was enough to motivate Shepard.

If there were a cat on the Normandy, surely Mordin would know. He would be aware of any new changes to the environment, any crew reactions.

"Mordin, do you have a minute to talk?" Shepard peered at his lab station, filled with datapads and beakers filled with serums and liquids of varying colors.

Mordin whipped his head up, his eyes gleaming. "Wanted to see you, Shepard. Good timing. Concerns about Collectors."

Waving a hand, Shepard shook her head. "I'm not here to talk about that. We've got another matter."

He inhaled. "Ah. More important."

"No. Just more... immediate."

"Crew medical condition. Scale-itch again? Many possibilities with diverse crew. Alien. Human, turian, asari, krogran, drell, quarian. Varying strengths, immune systems. Troubling."

Shepard let Mordin ramble off his list before interjecting. "A crewmember suffers from allergies."

"Interspecies relationships can result in allergic reactions. Different," Mordin cleared his throat," bodily fluids. Tissues. Possible rashes and stomach discomfort. Can be ameliorated with appropriate treatments. Ointments are available if you.-"

"Uh, this isn't quite like that." Shepard, at first, felt her face growing hot.

"No need for embarrassment, Shepard. Remember, sacred trust of doctor-patient confidentiality. Hippocratic oath." Mordin spread his lips in a wide smile, his alien teeth shining.

Shepard stopped herself from saying that this wasn't about her but a different crew member. Mordin would not believe her.

"These allergies are a result of dander," Shepard said. "Do you have any knowledge of additional animals on the ship? Seen any strange reactions?"

Mordin shrugged and returned his pronged fingers to the keyboard. "Miranda has severe allergic reaction. Unseen in other crew. Not significant. Zaeed seems... pleased. Unrelated though."

"What about Zaeed?"

"Seems amicable."

There were a number of words Shepard would associate with Zaeed. Bitter. Acerbic. Angry. Unpleasant. Weird. Hostile. Surly. Amicable was a word reserved for friends getting ice cream and walking through the park together. Shepard noted to check it out later.

"Thanks Mordin. I'll let you get back to work," she said.

"Yes. Science to be done. Good luck with search."

Shepard had nothing against cats. She found the felines to be wonderful earthly companions, but they were unsuited for her lifestyle during her term in the Alliance. Though, perhaps now, with the new Normandy, she could adopt a kitten. 'Would it eat the fish in the aquarium,' she wondered.

She was watching the engines down in the lower deck, enjoying the quiet hum. Maybe the cat was hiding down here, crawling around in the underbelly of the ship.

"Shepard, what are you doing down here?" Tali asked. She had just come down the hallway and leaned on the railing next to Shepard.

"Thinking about things. Got a lot on my mind," Shepard replied.

"Oh. I can imagine with the Collector threat and Cerberus operatives everywhere."

"Sort of. I've got a question for you," Shepard said. "If someone brought an animal on-board in secret, would you know?"

"Like what? A varren?"

"There are more animals than varren in the universe, aren't there?"

"Okay. Well, it is doubtful I would notice."

"With your immune system? I figured you would be set off immediately."

"Unless my suit is punctured, I would not notice. My suit contains its own ecosystem of carefully balanced nutrients and protective fail-safes to maintain my immune system. Being sealed off from outer exposures, I would not notice if the air were to disperse and leave everyone gagging in the vacuum." Tali's obscured face lit up behind her impenetrable visor.

Shepard considered Tali's explanation. It made sense, seeing that Quarians truly were that sensitive and thus their suits had to be a fully protective bubble.

"Is there something I should be aware of?" Tali asked.

"Miranda thinks there's a cat on board. She's severely allergic and refuses to leave her office. To go in, I have to let one of the junior crew members lint roll me and change my clothes. It's ridiculous."

"I see. That is unfortunate. Especially since cats are such good shipmates."

"You know what a cat is?"

"Of course," Tali said with surprise, as if anyone who didn't know was a fool. "In studying human engineering through the ages, I read about early travels where vermin sickened the crew and ruined food on seafaring vessels. Cats were brought along as a measure to eliminate the vermin."

"Thanks, Tali," Shepard smiled.

"I'll talk to you later, Shepard." Tali returned to the front of the engineering bay, leaving Shepard by the engines.

After ten minutes, Shepard decided she should return to the command center and get some actual work done. As she headed toward the elevator, she heard a soft chuckle and the murmur of Zaeed's voice from behind the starboard cargo door. Zaeed did occasionally find amusement in his thoughts, but this sounded like he had a visitor, and it wasn't the spirit of his favorite gun, Jesse.

Shepard paused by the elevator door, not quite ready to head back to the main deck. Another chuckle emanated, followed by what she could only call a low cooing. Mordin did say Zaeed seemed approachable, though perhaps that made him more dangerous than usual.

Shepard walked over to the door, but it did not automatically slide open like the others on the ship. It was locked from the inside. She knocked.

"Who's there?" Zaeed called, his voice muffled behind the metal sheet between them.

"Zaeed, it's Shepard."

"Oh, uh, just a minute." There was a series of hushed whispers as Zaeed rushed behind the door. Shepard heard a soft mewling.

"Jus' be quiet will ya," Zaeed said.

The door glided open. Zaeed stood in the back of the room, his arms crossed and leg cocked to the side.

"What was that all about?" Shepard asked.

"What?" He shrugged.

"All that noise." Shepard glanced around. They were the only people in the room.

"Oh, you know. Talking to Jesse," Zaeed motioned toward the gun on the table.

"Really? Talking to your gun?"

"Told you before. Jesse's older than you are and better at conversation," Zaeed said.

Shepard began to pace the room, moving from the doorway around the security monitor and toward the trash compactor. She looked at the vents in the ceiling and under the table where Zaeed had placed his gun. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Looking for something?"

"Thought I heard something else in the room."

"I told you. Jus' talking to myself. And Jesse."

A scratching sound came from a metal box in the corner, between the rifle on the table and Zaeed. He shifted from his position along the wall to stand in front of the box. The scratching became more frantic.

"Zaeed, do you have a cat?"

"What? No, I don't like cats. Too squishy," he said.

A soft meow echoed from the box.

"Is there a cat in there?"

"You know, Shepard, I'm trying to remember how many krogan me and Jesse've killed together-"

"I'm pretty sure there's a cat in that box," Shepard pointed to the crate.

Zaeed paused, and smirked at her. "So what if there is?"

"We can't have unapproved pets on board," Shepard crossed her arms.

"Screw that and screw you. I don't care about your regs!"

"Zaeed, the cat."

"Or what Shepard? You shoot me?"

"No, that wouldn't be helpul." Shepard walked to the trash compactor in the rear of the room while Zaeed watched with his one good eye.

"That's what I thought," he said, crossing his arms again and rising on the balls of his feet.

There were two buttons for the compactor, spaced a few paces apart; one for activating the trash compactor and the other for jettisoning the crushed trash into space. Shepard pressed the first raised metal button. A cube of compacted trash dropped from below the spinning fan.

"You can't keep the cat on the Normandy," she said.

"There is no cat!"

Another meow emanated from the box and Shepard shook her head.

"Zaeed, if you don't take care of this..." She pressed the second button and the cube of trash flew out into the void of space.

Zaeed gaped, the color draining from his maligned face.

"I think you get it." Shepard nodded to Zaeed and left.

Shepard thought that the cat problem was over. It was true that cats, and other unauthorized animal and flora, were not allowed on the Normandy and so long as someone suffered, she had an obligation to remedy the situation.

She figured Zaeed, heartless as he was, would abandon the animal somewhere eventually and tried to give him ample opportunity. He came along on her trips to Omega and to the Citadel, but every time Shepard walked by the starboard cargo door, she could still hear the meowing.

"Are you even trying, Shepard?" Miranda paused, raising her head up slightly, and sneezed into a tissue. "Can't you see I'm suffering here?"

Shepard rubbed the bridge of her nose. Miranda wasn't the only one suffering.

Miranda's plaintive complaints and messages brought Shepard down to the lower decks with a small animal carrier in hand. She had arranged with Kelly to relocate the cat to other premises during their next docking. What that entailed, Shepard didn't want to know. She comforted herself with the thought that Kelly loved everything and everyone and would never put any creature in harm's way.

Again, the door was locked from inside and did not open when she approached. She knocked hard with her fist.

"Zaeed?"

There was shuffling and hushing as Zaeed worked to hide the cat. The door slid open a few moments later.

"Shepard, nice to see ya." He leaned back against the table next to Jesse, one legged crossed behind his ankle. Perfectly casual. "What brings you down to the bowels?"

"Cut the crap. I'm here for the cat," she lifted the carrier.

"What's this about a friggen' cat?"

Rolling her eyes, Shepard rolled her shoulders back and leveled a disapproving stare at the old ex-mercenary. "Not in the mood. I know you have a cat, Zaeed. Miranda's sick as a dog and it's because of your cat."

Zaeed's smile fell, replaced with his familiar sneer, and he glanced to the box where he had hidden the cat. "Screw Miranda. That cat's been a better teammate than that bloated girl ever was."

"It's not just a risk to Miranda. We don't know how others react to the presence of a cat on-board. We haven't seen anything yet, but I don't want to risk it going into the mission," Shepard said.

Zaeed and Shepard stared each other down for several minutes before he relented.

"It's not fair," Zaeed said. Shepard hoped he wouldn't pout.

"Zaeed," she sighed. "I know you don't want to give the cat up, but it's better for everyone involved."

"Doesn't sound better to me," Zaeed went over to the box," Lemme say goodbye and give 'er a meal."

He opened the lid and two black tipped ears and a tail appeared. Zaeed reached in, lifting the cat from underneath and smiled.

"Alright, Elvira. You heard the lady," he jerked his head toward Shepard. "You gotta go."

Elvira blinked at him with her big green eyes and meowed, as if she understood what he said. Zaeed set her on the table and fished around the box until he found some cat food and a plastic dish. He poured some kibble into the bowl, set it in front of her, and she began to eat. The cat's tail touched the edge of Zaeed's gun. Zaeed petted her, gazing at her with an expression of affection. Shepard found it disconcerting.

"I'm gonna miss you, old girl," Zaeed cooed.

When Elvira finished her meal, Zaeed motioned for Shepard to come over with the carrier. "Take her away. But don' make me watch."

Zaeed looked away to the window. Shepard opened the carrier on the table and reached toward the cat, intending to grab her by the collar. Elvira nuzzled Shepard's extended hand, her purr pulsing under Shepard's fingers. Shepard met the cat's wide and innocent gaze and, instantly, the guilt washed over her. She couldn't do it.

Elvira licked the tip of Shepard's index finger and sat down, curling her tail around her body. Shepard sighed, again, and took the carrier off the table.

"Keep her."

Zaeed stared at her, his one seeing eye wide. "What 'bout the crew?"

"I'll take care of it."

"This is ridiculous," Miranda said. She wore a bright yellow environmental suit that creaked as she crossed her arms.

"Why do I have to wear this thing? Were there no envirosuits? We can't keep a cat aboard, Shepard!"

"I just couldn't find anything, Miranda. I'm sorry, really I am. And Tali said she'd find you a spare envirosuit if she could."

"Ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. The suit squeaked as Miranda sat back down behind her desk.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Commander," Miranda sighed.

Shepard turned to walk out of Miranda's office, unable to keep the smile from her face.


End file.
